The Night Before the Massacre
by buh-bilove
Summary: Companion piece to Of Whims and Memories, you do not have to read that to understand this. The night before Horatio loses everything, he has two unexpected visitors. One welcome. One not.


His eyes had been growing weary for the past hour, but he knew that if he didn't keep researching, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern would be dead. But, a short nap never killed anyone-

Footsteps approached rapidly. Horatio snapped to attention and turned around, shocked to find his lord and good friend coming closer to him.

"My lord-"

Before Horatio could even stand, Prince Hamlet had pulled him from his chair and was shaking him. Not as if to harm him, but, as if to alert him to something.

"Do you see him?"

"See who-my lord, are you alright? You look. . ."

Horatio trailed off. There was no polite way to tell the prince he looked like he had been run over by a carriage. His clothes barely clung to him, as if he had thrown them on but not fastened them properly before running to Horatio. His shirt was wide open, revealing an array of wounds, both old and new. Horatio unfortunately knew all the stories behind the old wounds, but the new ones? Hamlet had promised he'd stop-

Hamlet shook Horatio once more, pointing to what appeared to be a random corner. "Do. You. See. Him."

This seemed to be more of a statement than a question. Horatio looked at where Hamlet was pointing and shook his head. It was the only thing he could do, as speech left him suddenly-had the room gotten colder? Or was the main fire finally dying out? When was the last time he had fed the flames?

"Good. Good. Good." Hamlet muttered what appeared to be to himself. His eyes then chose to bore into Horatio's. Horatio tried to look away, but found he couldn't. He was entranced by the chaos that seemed to be in his lord's eyes. Eyes that Horatio had desperately tried to get to look at him any other time, but now that they were on him, Horatio was unsure of what to do.

Had the temperature suddenly risen, or was it just Horatio?

Hamlet's serious countenance broke into a loving glance. So full of love that Horatio's skin burned in the cold air that surrounded it. What had gotten into Hamlet? He had only receive this glance once before, but that was the night Horatio discovered how bad Hamlet's melancholy was. The night the two had their first-

"My sweet, sweet Horatio," Hamlet murmured, moving one of his arms to better stroke Horatio's lip with his thumb. "You always know what is best for me. My Patroclus. My Hyacinth. My Horatio."

Hamlet gently brought their lips together for a small, chaste kiss.

Horatio remained still, for he was too shocked at what was transpiring, yet a small part of him desperately wanted that moment to last forever.

However, being the ever logical lover, Horatio pulled back.

"My lord-"

"Hamlet. It's Hamlet here."

It was Horatio's turn to hold his sweet prince, gently cupping his face with his hands. "Hamlet, what is troubling you? I thought your madness was merely a folly- is it the match with Laertes tomorrow?"

Hamlet abruptly took a step back, his brows furrowed in confusion and anger.

"What-no. Horatio, Laertes worries me not. Can we not just be together while he is not around?"

It was Horatio's turn to be confused. "When who is not around? Laertes does not know about us. No one knows about us."

Hamlet shot Horatio a guilty look. "You're wrong. He does."

"Laertes? You told Laertes about-"

"No! I told Laertes nothing and he knows nothing! I am not talking about Laertes! I'm talking about him!"

Horatio sighed in frustration. "Who, Hamlet? Who did you-"

Hamlet rushed forth and turned Horatio's head to a painting on the wall.

"HIM."

Horatio tried to move but Hamlet would not let him. He stopped struggling, however, when he realized what portrait Hamlet had wanted him to see.

"Your father?"

Hamlet relaxed immediately, releasing Horatio.

"Yes. Him. But, not him. It's difficult to explain. Horatio, you are a good Christian man, are you not?"

Horatio wanted to reply no, because no good Christian man fucked his prince behind everyone's back. Especially his betrothed's.

"To an extent, I would say." Horatio cautiously answered.

"Then, you believe in angels?"

"I do."

"That means, you believe in demons."

"Yes, what has this got to do with anything?"

Hamlet gulped and looked back into the corner of the quickly darkening and freezing room. Horatio wondered if he was cold with his shirt open like that.

"Horatio, you've seen my father's ghost, just as well as I have. And, you know what we have planned." Horatio nodded. "But, the thing is, I don't think that's wholly my father. I think something. . . corrupted him, on his way to me. Something, unholy."

Horatio stepped forward to better see the look on Hamlet's face, hoping Hamlet couldn't see the growing look of worry on his.

"Hamlet, what are you implying?"

"This. . . my father. . . he wants bloody revenge. And even though I intend to give it to him, he wants suffering. My suffering. He torments me every night with visions of you. You being tortured in the worst ways imaginable, in Elsinore and in Hell. Tonight, I dreamt of him in the library, stealing your breath until you were no more. And I felt this was not just a vision, but a warning. Dear Horatio, come to bed. With me. Let the maids gossip in the morning. Let the whole world know what has been known to us for years, but for God's sake, let me hold you in my arms and ensure your safety."

Hamlet closed the distance between them and sealed the promise with another kiss, this one more hungry than the last. Horatio instinctively kissed back, praying that if he agreed to this, he could give Hamlet just a little calm in the storm that had become his life. Hamlet, however, broke the kiss and held Horatio's head tightly, looking just beyond Horatio with the fear of God in his eyes.

"I won't let you have him! He's mine, and mine alone. You will have what you want, but please, for the love of God, leave him alone!"

Horatio attempted to struggle out of Hamlet's grip, but again, his herculean strength had returned.

"Hamlet, what's going on? Let go of me! Let me help!"

"There is nothing you can do- Back I say! Back! Let me have what little happiness I do have!"

The room was completely dark, save for the moonlight that streamed in through the windows.

And whatever blue glow was coming from behind Horatio.

"Leave us! Please! Don't you remember him? He's my best friend, my only true friend in this wretched world. You loved him like a son, and one day, I was hoping to make him your son. Just let him go in peace. Take me instead!"

Horatio struggled more violently, pleading to Hamlet to let him go and allow him to face whatever was-

A cold breeze blew down his neck. And then another. Then they became short and consistent. Hamlet's eyes were wide as he continued to mutter pleas with tears streaming down his face.

The room began to spin, and even with his strength, Hamlet was not able to keep Horatio from crashing to the floor.

The last thing Horatio heard before the darkness overtook him was that of Hamlet calling out his name in vain.

And the last thing Horatio saw before the darkness overtook him the corrupted visage of Old King Hamlet overlapping with that of his son's.


End file.
